To quote a friend, doin' better than I deserve

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By the God of the universe…He chose you before the foundation of the world. And not just “you”, the “struggling, trying hard, want to do good you.” Or the “oops, I stumbled again” you. This also includes the “boy have I really blown it, no one is as bad as me” you. THAT you. I’m trying to tell you about the HOLY AND BLAMELESS you. THAT is who He selected, HE CHOSE YOU before the world was ever formed.

Maybe that’s old news. Maybe it doesn’t knock your socks off. But it does me.

Every so often I just get hit with that realization anew. And it’s mind-boggling. What PEACE that brings…why is there any stress in this life when we are assured of our place in eternity?

If you aren’t aware, it’s all in His plan. But oh wait, that’s right. He only accepts perfection. Blameless people. That lets you out? Not really.

He cannot abide sin. Not even a little white lie. (Most of mine are actually ugly, crunchy black things). So He devised the plan to send His own Son to pay the penalty—which is death—for my sins and yours. The plan goes like this: Jesus, God’s son, came in a miraculous way, lived a perfect, sinless life. Then He was put to death in a tortuous way. And in His death He assumed all of your sins. All of my sins. All the sins of the world’s people.

He carried those sins to the grave; conquered death and left them there. Then he got up; he came back from the dead and went back to heaven, get this: to prepare a place for you. And when you accept this, when you truly believe this and accept Him as the One who has saved you, you join the ranks of the holy and blameless. Isn’t that amazing?

If you’d like to know more, please leave me a comment. But it’s all in the Bible. Start with John 3:16 if you like, and go on from there. In fact, he comprised the whole thing into that one verse: “God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son that whosoever believes on Him shall not perish, but have everlasting life.” See, I had to use 7 paragraphs, he used one sentence.

My 3 brothers and I were rambunctious, curious, headstrong kids who were constantly experimenting, trying out new things, building contraptions, getting into scrapes. Especially when we concocted pretend battles that earned us scrapes and more than one hilarious–if unexpected–outcome. (Tale for another time)

Yet when Mama said jump, we did. Didn’t ask why. Or argue. We just understood that she was Mama, she was in charge, she knew best, and she had a little maple switch to back up her words if we disagreed.

She didn’t use it much. She didn’t have to. She knew that our history with her and our aversion to pain had taught us to trust her at her word. The few times our egos got in the way and that little guy with the horns on my left shoulder prompted me to flip that big toe over the line a bit too far…I had the Truth of what I already knew reinforced.

Don’t get me wrong, I would never dare to complain about this. It wasn’t excessive; it wasn’t cruel or meant to harm. It was love in action; love showing us that we had firm boundaries in place for our safety and protection. We knew that from her perspective, in her many years of wisdom earned the hard way, that she absolutely knew what was the right thing for us to do. Our doubts were set to rest with a bit of stinging on the legs, a few tender tears, and a much chastened ego.

When I read again John 2: 4 today, (about the wedding in Cana) I had to think about mothers and their children. As a mother of grown sons today, When I see a need to be filled, I quietly direct my sons in the same way that Mary did. “Jack, we need more tea,” or “Seth, that box is too heavy for her.” I know without hesitation that they will acquiesce, and help in whatever way my statement implied. I know that’s taking huge license with the Saviour and His relationship to his mother, but that’s my personal frame of reference here.

4Yeshua said to her, “Woman, what does that have to do with you and me? My hour has not yet come.”

Jesus wasn’t being disrespectful or refusing to obey; He was simply asking her to consider His own perspective of His mission of salvation versus her more immediate temporal concern.

That is a huge lesson for me right now. Recovering from an unexpected divorce, I have my own laundry list of immediate wants and needs that I’ve taken to Him, confident that He cares. But He’s reminding me that His perspective is different from mine. His purposes in the trials I face today are eternal, not temporal.

That’s quite a lesson for me. I wanted to pass it along, for what it’s worth. And to share with you one more bit of serendipity…the verse to encourage me that came to mind from this study was from I Peter 5:7

7 Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. (NIV).

Now, I have a children’s memory verse pad—it’s a post-it note pad with a different verse printed on every page in large print—I guess it’s used in VBS or children’s classes. The top one was about children obeying their parents. I used to stick them on the mirror and around the house, as reminders.

Haven’t used it in a while. In a pinch, I turned it over and scribbled I Peter 5:7 down on the back of the last well-worn sheet that still had a bit of sticky on it. I folded the sticky edge down and stuck it with the verse I wrote showing on my bookshelf beside my desk. It was a few moments later when I stood up to leave the desk, that I glanced at the notepad to see what the new memory verse would be. Here it is: “Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.”

Mama was so funny. She told jokes really well. Unless she forgot them. Or got the facts mixed up. But regardless, she was funny.

Her heart was the biggest I have ever known. When she led my Brownie troop back in 1960, she taught us how to make favors for the meal trays at Cardinal Hill Children’s Hospital. We cut out the silhouette of a cardinal from red construction paper, put a horizontal slit in the side, then cut a rectangle of paper and folded it accordian style; and inserted it through the slit, so that the bird had 3-D wings. It was really a cute little gesture, and brightened the lunch trays of severdal hundred crippled children that day.

We donned our Brownie uniforms and carpooled to the imposing old brick building, perching high on a hill off of Versailles Road and Mason Headley Road where it gazed down over what later became Cardinal Valley Subdivision. It was freezing cold as we piled out of station wagons and cars with several other mothers in attendance. We were well rehearsed in how to stay in 2 lines and behave as we visited the hospital to sing Christmas carols and brighten the faces of the children who were receiving treatment there. As Mom led us from room to room, her animated face, exaggerated movements and that wagging index finger marking time to the acappella music brought bright smiles to more than a few.

The way she could widen and roll her eyes brought laughter to the lips–and joy to the soul. All 4 ft 11 1/2 inches of her were proud to reach out to each little heart, speaking with her smiles and comedic gestures to love each one in turn.

Not such a big deal, you say? You weren’t there. It’s as if someone turned on the lights in room after room as she strolled through, bringing the love of Jesus to child after child. It impressed me then, a little girl of 7. And the memory of it still impresses me today, at 63.

Someday, when I meet you in heaven, I’ll introduce you to Mama, and if you’re really lucky, I get her to sing for you “This Little Light of Mine.”

[Written over a year ago when I switched jobs. Not sure why I neglected to publish…but I still appreciate RCB bank, even though I’m over 500 miles away now…it’s STILL “my bank!”]

I’ve had a wonderful time working for the local bank the past few years. Along with other activities I’ve spent my days staring at checks written by customers, squinting at the handwriting of Mr. Jones and Miss Smith, trying to interpret what dollar and how many cents they mean.

You’ll never believe how many people put about 4 zeroes BEFORE the dollar amount on their deposit slip…and a dash, or slash, or dots, or smiley face after the written dollar amount–leaving me to guess what they actually intend in regard to their accounts. My coworkers grew weary of hearing me say, “I wanna teach a class in how to write checks or people can’t have accounts!”

I can now stop feeding that wicked machine that photographs (but for me it eats) paper checks and distorts them until I cringe at the outcome. They’re letting me out of validating new information, they now understand that they cannot train this old traditionalist to read the “new math” kind of numbers that some customers are writing for us.

And now I’ve turned another page in my personal history and moved on to more familiar ground. I left the hallowed tan cubicles, ornate paneled elevators, with scenes of quiet floral vases and opulent wallpaper for a more common habitat. I learned a great deal from each of those I met at the bank. I learned not go to the banking floor to cash a cheque unless it’s between 2 and 3 pm. And which teller to approach–one always busy, one chatting you up so that you never go away feeling less than a new member of the family.

I learned that it is NOT necessarily worth it to wear jeans on Friday. That the bank has the very best leftovers in town (their catered events are fantastic). I learned that behind this genteel aura of respect, impersonal formality and “properness” is a group of observant, thoughtful and caring people, a team who shows regard for your personal safety and security, trying to help you succeed (sometimes in spite of your own best intentions).

The slow, deliberate nature of their decision-making process allows time to examine all avenues available to their clients…resulting in a studied, wise and certain direction that will rarely offer you less than the very best outcome possible. Quite a legacy, when you stop to think about it.

I’ve moved on to new territory…different, surely, but not necessarily better. Just different. But after all’s said and done, I can still say with certainty and pride, ..”that’s STILL my bank!”